A World Away
by Jack'N'SallyGal
Summary: The war has little to do with them when the door closes and they shut out the events of the day.


"We better be off."

Lily's unsteady on her feet from too many drinks at dinner, but when she tugs on Remus' coat, drawing him in for a brief, fierce hug, her grip is strong and sure. Her fingers tremble a bit as she holds the fabric, looking like she may never let go.

None of them are used to her fear. It's normally a tightly controlled thing, held in check by sheer determination, and the sense that _she's doing the best she can, damn it_. It's brimming in her eyes tonight, and Remus thinks she might lose it right there on the street until she straightens her shoulders, appearing all business.

"Have a good night," she says to him and Sirius, kissing each of their cheeks.

She meant to say it casually, but it comes out an awful lot like _I love you_, and _Please be careful_.

They return the hug and kiss, accepting her worry even as she tries to pretend it isn't really there.

James gives them each a hug, making no move to let them go right away. He's never been shy about doling out his affection; today, after the funeral, even more-so.

He nods briskly at both of them, winks, before looping an arm around his wife. He waves briefly over his shoulder, and they're off, blending in with the rest of the late crowd.

"Shall we?"

Remus lifts an arm, and Sirius leans into him, letting the limb drape over him so the connection is close and strong. They share warmth and a few wayward kisses as they venture around the block. It's a short walk to their flat, where their too-small bed and dodgy heater is waiting.

As soon as they get inside, Remus toes off his shoes, walking to the other side of the room to fall back on the unmade bed. He stares at the ceiling as Sirius goes through the stack of parchment the owls dropped off earlier. Sirius keeps up a fine stream of one-sided conversation, laughing over the fact that they paid the rent late, again, frowning over the other stack of bills briefly before shoving them into the pile that's accumulated on the counter.

Out of sight out of mind.

Remus sits up, resting on his elbows and watches as Sirius begins removing his clothing. He's talking about the funeral, again. He cuts himself off, mid-conversation, and begins going on about the Quidditch World Cup and how _bloody expensive those tickets are_.

When his shirt's off, a forgotten puddle at his feet, and he's working on the fly of his trousers, he stops, and notes the look Remus is giving him.

"You're overdressed, Moony."

Remus glances down at his clothes, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"It appears I am."

Sirius lowers his fly, slowly. He leaves it like that, revealing the patch of hair that continues beneath the denim of his trousers, as he crosses the room so he's standing between Remus' thighs.

"Not going to fix that?"

"I'd rather you do it for me."

Sirius keeps up his pace. Slow. Slower still as he tackles the buttons, then the fly of Remus' trousers.

"Lift your hips," Sirius orders, and his voice is strong and nearly pleading all at once, before Remus complies so Sirius can get them over his hips and toss them aside.

Sirius' fingers ghost over the skin of Remus' thighs, traveling upward. He takes the time to tease the flesh at his disposal on his way up. He pauses at the scars, kissing the raised flesh at he looks up at Remus from beneath his lashes.

The shirt comes off next, and then Sirius is tumbling into bed, unbearably turned on and laughing, his laughter ending in a low moan as Remus adjusts their positions so his body is covering Sirius', his hand palming him through his trousers.

"Oh, fucking hell," Sirius breathes.

His eyes slam closed and his fingers find purchase, digging into Remus' hips, bringing them closer, aligning their bodies until Remus is groaning, arms trembling with the effort to hold himself up as the friction goes straight through both of them.

"I'm going to..." Sirius gasps.

"Shite, ah-"

"In my trousers," Sirius breathes, arching his hips a final time, feeling Remus tremble and then collapse against him.

In the nearly perfect darkness, both of them breathe heavily, settling in somewhat despite the sweat and other liquid between them.

"In my trousers, Remus. Honestly. Bad form."

Feeling languid and ready for sleep, Remus fumbles around a bit and locates his wand so he can cast a quick cleaning charm, doing away with some of the mess.

"I'll make it up to you in the morning. No trousers."

Sirius is already drifting to sleep. He pulls Remus back, and Remus gladly collapses so his face is resting on Sirius' chest. He presses a kiss to the heated skin, and Sirius makes a low sound of contentment.

It's almost like the day never happened. The funeral and the worry. All of it seems a little ridiculous when they're so safe, so happy together, on the verge of sleep.

Remus holds on to the feeling of safety, falling asleep to the gentle thrum of Sirius' heart.


End file.
